


It’s All Fun And Games ‘Till Someone Kidnaps The Messiah

by GingerBeer42, J_Anthony



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Does he even count, Ineffable Idiots, Ineffable Writers Guild, Kidnap Baby Jesus Plan, M/M, Oncoming Disaster Zone, Overzealous reading of Wiki pages, Self-Defenestration, Seriously they're all idiots, The Extended Disaster Squad, This will go down very smoothly, Time Lords, Time Travel, he's a baby, lots of running
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22893052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBeer42/pseuds/GingerBeer42, https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Anthony/pseuds/J_Anthony
Summary: The Doctor visits the first Christmas, because that’ll go smoothly. Of course, Jesus gets kidnapped and the Oncoming Disaster Zone has to team up with the Ineffable Idiots to save the universe. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81
Collections: Ineffable Writers Guild





	It’s All Fun And Games ‘Till Someone Kidnaps The Messiah

**Author's Note:**

> We had a great idea on our Ineffable Writers Guild server to write a crossover between Doctor Who and Good Omens, and what’s better than to start right at the beginning (by certain definitions of “beginning”)?
> 
> Contains a Time Lord quirk that’s rather obscure but is supported by canon. We’ll explain later (as in, in the end notes). Also, this is meant to be set sometime after Journey’s End but before The Waters of Mars for the Doctor, but there aren’t really any spoilers for anything, and it could easily be set in any time period when Ten is alone. 
> 
> This fic is also written by [ElaBlackCat6](https://www.wattpad.com/user/ElaBlackCat6) on Wattpad, you can read the first person POV [here](https://my.w.tt/OekxL7uGm4). 
> 
> Beta by the incredible [Splashattack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splashattack), [Deamonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deamonia) and our very own [JoyfulOmens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoyfulOmens)!

The TARDIS hummed contentedly as she zipped through the Time Vortex. 

“So,” the Doctor said, turning the scanner towards himself. “New day, new plans. Anywhere in time and space! Where do you want to go?”

The only response was the irritated thrumming of the Time Rotor. 

“What?” he turned around, frowning. “Where are y— Oh. Right.” He sighed. “Travelling alone. Guess it’s just you and me, old girl. Any suggestions?”

She trilled, the lights on her console lighting up red and green. 

“Christmas?” She knew the Time Lord was fond of Earth holidays. “Christmas is always nice. How about the very first one? Sure hope no one tries to ruin it… It might even _snow_ ! No, but seriously, can you imagine _actual snow_ on _Christmas_?”

A slightly annoyed beep. _Yeah, right._

He shrugged. “Millionth time’s the charm, I live in hope. Allons-y!”

The TARDIS wheezed as the Time Lord set the flight controls. “Hm, the year 7 BCE, formerly known as BC. Funny year to be born in as the one the zero year’s named after, but I suppose I can’t judge. Wibbly wobbly, eh? I wonder where they got ‘December 25th’, this isn’t even _close_.”

 _Thunk._

“Ooh, we’re here! Thanks, dear. I’ll see you later!” Giving the Time Rotor a pat, he grabbed his coat from a strut of coral and dashed out. 

“No snow… Well, of course there wouldn’t be. Middle of the desert?”

No snow, on a Christmas that wasn't yet Christmas, and he was alone. The universe owed him a win, right? It was inevitable that he'd get tangled up with history— he couldn't not, it seemed. Might as well go find Jesus by himself. Stable in Bethlehem, how hard could it be?

Turned out, it was much harder than the Doctor had expected. Nearly five hours later, he'd only made it to two stables, neither of which contained any newborns, let alone the supposed Messiah. His shoes were caked in sand and he would have fought down a pear if it meant he could have a glass of water after. Why did he _ever_ think this was a good idea?

Rose would have laughed and made some teasing remark about how he never _could_ stay out of things. Donna would have called him a stupid Martian who could never keep his nose out of things. And they'd be right— he’d been a terrible Time Lord in that sense. Non-interference? Never heard of them. He still was, probably— but did it matter if he was the only one?

The Doctor looked up, scanning the smooth horizon once more for any silhouette that could potentially be a stable. The sky was liberally splashed with the tiny pinpoints that were the stars— no light pollution yet— and a collection of five shapes moved against it, only visible where they blocked the dim light of the night sky. Three of them carried packages in their hands, their odd shapes marring the otherwise human-shaped silhouettes. They were the first signs of life he'd seen since leaving the last stable, nearly two hours ago, and he latched on, following them from a fair distance. Hope blossomed in his chest as a run-down structure became visible.

The package-carrying men entered the building— it definitely was a stable— and left a few minutes later, the packages no longer in their grasp. The Doctor watched from around the corner as the other pair entered, the soft candlelight inside the stable illuminating them. One was tall and spindly, dressed entirely in black robes and with long, fiery red hair flowing past his shoulders. Ginger! The Doctor would be lying if he claimed not to be jealous. The other was slightly shorter, with rich cream cloth draped around his soft form.

The Time Lord was still hiding behind the corner of the building, which kept him out of view, but that was the only useful thing he’d come up with so far. He wished he had a companion now. They'd definitely come up with the obvious course of action that he himself was missing. 

"Oi! Why are you hiding behind there?" 

The Doctor turned around, startled. The ginger man had snuck up behind him and was currently glaring in his direction. He must've walked out of the stable while he was distracted. 

"Blimey, you look exactly like me! Well, exactly like me if I was ginger. Well, a ginger me with— ooh, nice eyes…” Alien ancestry? Mutation? Alien pretending to be human?

The ginger man cleared his throat impatiently. 

“Well,” the Doctor tried to get back on track, “I was wandering around and just saw a few unusual people and wanted to know what was going on.”

“Well, apparently, God’s human son was born today and here’s where it happened. You can go hail him and all that stuff or you can hang out here with me and explain why you look exactly like me. Name’s Crowley, by the way.” Crowley stuck out his hand and the Doctor took it. 

“I’m the Doctor. Good to meet you.” 

"Shouldn't you be inside, then?" They just looked at each other for a second, not really knowing what to do in this situation. 

“Crowley… and _Crowley_?” They both turned to see the other, shorter man from before, who was apparently familiar with Crowley and therefore very confused by the current doppelgänger situation. 

“Angel, this is the Doctor,” Crowley introduced them, clear affection blossoming in his golden eyes as he looked at the other man. “ _No_ idea why he looks like me but he’s not. I think you should have realized that. How’s the baby?” 

“Fine. Just very small and rather potato-ish, but fine,” he told Crowley before he turned to the Doctor with a polite smile. “Hello, Doctor, I’m Aziraphale, Guardian of the—”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Crowley said hurriedly. “Did you want to go in?”

“Yeah, let’s go. But first…” the Doctor gave the entire stable a scan. Fixed points in time, always very interesting readings.

“What’s that?” Aziraphale asked.

“Sonic screwdriver.”

“...What?” Crowley asked. “How can a screwdriver run on sound waves?”

“Er… very complicated, technical reasons, now how about we go inside?”

“Okay.” Crowley shrugged and sauntered off towards the door.

So far, so friendly and normal and boring, and Crowley and Aziraphale were obviously together. He sighed. Christmas was much more fun when something unexpected happened. It was almost dull like this. But what could possibly go wrong? 

They had just turned the corner of the stable to go inside together when there was a scream. A group of people ran out of the barn with the baby (the _entire manger_ , actually), the parents chasing after them. _That_ was more like his usual Christmases. 

“What are we standing here for?” the Doctor asked, a big grin on his face. “History’s at stake here. ALLONS-Y!” 

He wasn’t sure how the TARDIS had translated that since French didn’t exist yet, but Aziraphale and Crowley thankfully got the hint to join the hunt after baby Jesus. Now, that was a rare sentence. Mary couldn't run far, unsurprising for someone who’d just given birth. Aziraphale wanted to stop and help her but they had to catch some kidnappers. Babynappers. Apparent-Son-of-God-nappers. Anyway, Aziraphale and the Doctor left her with her husband and a promise to get her child back before sprinting after Crowley, who was surprisingly fast, even though he was walking like he had no clue what legs were, let alone their proper function. A small town came into view and the group of kidnappers dove into the streets. The Doctor followed, Aziraphale and Crowley hot on his heels. 

They caught up with the little group of kidnappers in a side alley of the nearest village. They were surrounding what seemed to be their leader, who had ditched the manger and was now holding the baby, as well as a leather strap— for God’s _sake_ , how had these idiots got their hands on a Vortex Manipulator?

“Oi!” the Doctor yelled, hoping to stall them. “Yeah, you, the babynappers. Wait a second!” It worked, since the Doctor, Aziraphale and Crowley were blocking the only exit and the kidnappers seemed to be unwilling to time travel in front of witnesses. 

"Excuse me? Um. Hello, would you mind giving us back the baby? He's frightfully important," Aziraphale pleaded very carefully. His voice wavered slightly and he didn't sound very convincing. 

“Yes, please listen to my very clever friend here,” the Doctor pitched in. “I’m not sure if you’re already aware of this, but the baby you’re currently trying to steal has got a really important role in history, and if you don’t put him back you might destabilize the entirety of this planet’s causal nexus; and maybe even that of the universe—”

“Yeah, very important baby, give him back,” Crowley said, cutting the Doctor’s explanation short. The Time Lord glared at him. 

“Please,” Aziraphale added, rather desperately. 

The leader of the babynappers smirked. “Time travelers. Good, at least we won’t have to kill you.” He slammed his hand down on the Vortex Manipulator’s button and the group of time-travelling babynappers vanished into thin air. 

“Ah, cheap and nasty time travel.” The Time Lord winced, shuddering, while he pointed his screwdriver to the place where they had vanished and clicked some buttons. “Far enough into the future for humans to have this technology, and transporting at least three? Not a very pleasant journey. Not that I feel sorry for them or anything, it’s just the principle of it. Anyway, to the TARDIS!”

“The-the what?” Aziraphale asked, still staring at the spot where the babynappers had been. 

“The TARDIS.”

“The what?” Crowley asked. “Are you just making up words now?”

Blimey, it was Donna all over again. “My… mode of transportation, she’s called the TARDIS.”

“I assume you have some way of tracing and following them?” Aziraphale asked. “Especially since they seem to be travelling in time from what you’ve said? I’ve never met any beings with the ability to shift themselves in time like that…”

“Yep, yep, yep, Clarke’s Third Law, now allons-y!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Crowley asked. “Do you just really like Latin or something?”

“It sounds like Latin? That’s interesting, now let’s get a move on, time’s a-ticking!”

“If they’ve gone to the future and we can apparently follow them in a time machine, why does it matter how long we take?” Crowley asked. 

“Er… wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, take it from an expert, yes it matters, now _shift_! Unless you _want_ history to change!”

They thankfully followed him this time. 

“Come _on_ , open,” the Doctor growled, fumbling with the lock. Fortunately, the door quickly swung open with a squeak. 

“It’s bigger on the inside?” Aziraphale asked, staring around at the console room which was really rather small compared to some of the past ones. Poor him. Had to be hard to go from 7 BC into one of the most technologically advanced ships in the universe. The TARDIS twittered happily, sensing his thoughts. 

“Yes,” the Doctor answered, running to the console after throwing his dusty coat onto his usual strut of coral. “Yes, _she_ _is_. Long story, no time. We have a baby to save. Did you miss me, old girl?” He patted the Time Rotor and the TARDIS flashed impatiently. “Fine, _fine_ , I’m doing it. Can’t I even say hello anymore?”

“Seems a bit like hea— uh, where we came from,” Crowley said with a significant look towards Aziraphale. 

“Yes, a bit. But how did you get the powers for this, Doctor?”

“Questions later,” came the answer while he fed the TARDIS the signal from his screwdriver. “We _are_ in a bit of a hurry here.”

The scanner flashed a date, circular Gallifreyan appearing on the screen. The year 2008? That was impossible. There was no time travel technology on Earth at that time. Unless someone had lost it there. That would be bad. Who knew what else these guys could have got their hands onto. This had just turned _way_ bigger than expected and not in a good way. 

“Okay, you two. We’re going to the future now, because this is _my_ time machine and you will be _very very_ nice to her. This will probably be a little bit of a shock for you, but I need you to stay calm and follow me. We need to: One, get Jesus, two, get back to the TARDIS, and, four— I mean _three_ , get all of you back home to 7 BC Bethlehem ASAP. Pronto. Whatever people say— Hm, I wonder how that translated? Anyway, _fast_. ‘Cos I can already feel the time stream bending and breaking, and it’s not pleasant. Now, rules. Listen to me when I say something, don’t do anything stupid, and _please don’t run off._ ” The Doctor really hoped they would follow that last rule, unlike almost everyone else because apparently, that one was very hard for companions to remember. 

“Wait a second,” Crowley said. “Who’s Jesus? Never heard of a Jesus.”

“The baby!” Aziraphale and the Doctor said in unison.

“Really dear, pay attention.” Aziraphale tutted.

Crowley rolled his eyes and walked or rather sauntered- no, too much crazy hip motion for sauntering ‘hip-pendulumed?’- over to lean on the pilot’s seats. 

“Now, following other time-travellers is always a risky business— and you’re taking the whole time-travel thing, as well as the bigger-on-the-inside thing, remarkably well, I’m impressed— so this’ll be a bumpier ride than usual.” He grinned as he set the final flight controls. “As attending physician, I suggest you hold on.” He yanked down the handbrake and they were off. 

The console room shook like crazy from side to side as they _vwoorp_ ed through the Vortex. The Doctor loved that noise, it was the _best_ noise in all of creation. Somehow Aziraphale and Crowley had managed to not fall over, despite them sitting on the pilot’s seats like they were on a park bench. 

“Turbulence, straight ahead!” the Doctor yelled as a stronger bout of shaking rocked the room. 

“Is it meant to be this... violent?” Aziraphale asked breathlessly from where he was now clinging to the seat rather than sitting on it primly. 

The console beeped offendedly, and Crowley said, “Oi, angel, don’t offend the lady. She could probably easily drop us back in ancient Mesopotamia or something, _those_ were a boring few centuries.” 

The Doctor noticed the ginger was still slouched bonelessly on the pilot’s seats, unmoving as they lurched from side to side. Which was quite impressive. Finally, before the Doctor had time to think about Crowley’s mention of a few centuries, they landed with a _thunk_. 

“We’re here!” the Doctor said, sprinting to the doors and grabbing his coat. 

He opened them to a surprisingly nice-looking but very, very uniform neighbourhood. It didn’t seem like a place where insane fanatics with a habit of kidnapping important babies would live. Well, maybe the craziest people looked the most normal on the outside and lived on streets where every single house looked exactly the same. It made him remember why he was so against ‘settling down’. Mortgages had to be the most horrifying thing ever invented. 

Aziraphale and Crowley had wandered into the middle of the street, staring at their surroundings.

“Extraordinary,” Aziraphale said. “To think that they’ll— ahem, _we’ll_ come so far in just 2000 years.”

A car honked as it zoomed past, and Crowley yanked Aziraphale onto the pavement. “Careful, angel,” he said. “It’d be awfully inconvenient to get discor— die here.”

“Maybe a bit more than inconvenient, seeing as you would be dead?” the Doctor asked, looking at them curiously. They definitely weren’t human, that was for sure, and he loved a good mystery. 

“Meh,” Crowley said. “So, Doctor, you’re the expert. Where do you think our babynappers’ headquarters are?”

“Well, I’ve never been here before, but I’d place my bet on that giant church right over there. Chances are they took their very important baby inside.” A quick scan with his handy screwdriver confirmed that. “Come on, we’ve got a Messiah to rescue.” He took off down the street, the other two following.

It was a beautiful church, with soaring arches dotted with stained-glass windows and intricate carvings. Aziraphale stopped a few meters away from the entrance, and an impatient-looking Crowley skidded to a halt beside him. The Doctor joined them as they— well, he and Aziraphale, at least— admired the view. 

“Extraordinary,” the blonde man said, eyes wide with wonder. 

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” the Doctor said with a grin. 

“If you two are done,” Crowley said, “we’ve got something to do here.” He continued snakily along the path and the other two followed. 

The large oaken doors of the church were open and people were streaming in and out. From what little they could see of the room within, it was filled to capacity.

“Hello, sorry, what’s going on here?” Crowley asked one of the people currently approaching the place.

“The church of St. Mary has recovered the real baby Jesus,” the woman told them eagerly. “You can touch him to get rid of your sins if you make it inside. I don’t really believe it, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?” She resumed her walk towards the doors.

The Doctor gave the church another scan. The Vortex Manipulator’s signal ended inside.

“What _is_ that device?” Aziraphale asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it before…”

“I told you, it’s a sonic screwdriver, and no, you wouldn’t have.”

“Can it do _anything_?”

“Mm, just about.” He tossed it up and down proudly before tucking it back into his jacket pocket. “ _So_ , Jesus is in that church, with probably an entire neighbourhood’s worth of Christi— er, religious folks, all wanting to touch him. We need to get in there, grab the baby, and get out without any injuries on either side, before the causal nexus collapses in on itself, which should happen in…” He tried counting it out on his fingers. “Ooh, one hour? So, basically, we need a couple of miracles and a very, _very_ airtight plan, with some extremely good luck thrown in just for kicks. Ideas?”

“If you have a time machine, doesn’t that give us an infinite timeframe?” Crowley asked.

“No, it doesn’t, pay attention,” the Doctor answered impatiently. 

“Jeez, sorry. I’m a bit new to this sort of thing, if you haven’t noticed, _Doctor_.”

“I’d like to hear the explanation as well if you wouldn’t mind,” Aziraphale said.

“Alright, crash course in time-meddling and the dangers of such things. So, some points in time are in flux, meaning we can change parts of them without changing all of time, and some are fixed, which means if we change them we could potentially change the course of history itself, which can get very nasty, don’t try this at home, kids. An example of a fixed point is… oh, can’t use Pompeii, er… the Code of Hammurabi, which provided the basis for laws. Change that, _boom_ , there goes history. An example of a place in flux is which scribe carved the Code. As long as the Code is carved correctly, it doesn’t matter who carved it. That means if you somehow remove the scribe and you know cuneiform, you can carve the Code yourself and history doesn’t change. Definitely not speaking from experience here.”

They both seemed to follow along with his explanation better than the Doctor had expected from two people from 7 BC, so he continued. 

“That baby’s birth and his subsequent actions are a fixed point in time— his entire _life_ is a series of fixed points— which basically means that if we remove him, history, future for you two, goes completely wonky, two-thirds of the universe gets destroyed, and weird Eldritch abominations come to eat the remains up. This all happens in the second dimension of time, and it’s very complicated and hard to explain, so please just accept we have one hour relative time for us to do this, which is really very short, fifty-four seconds and 12 milliseconds of which I just used up explaining all of this to you. Now can we think up a plan? Miracles, plans, luck, all of the above, got any handy?”

“We could provide a miracle! Right, Crowley?” Aziraphale beamed proudly. 

“No, we can- _not_ , Aziraphale.” Crowley somehow managed to hiss the sentence despite it having only a single sibilant. “That’s completely insane. We have an audi— can’t do miracles, what the heaven are you talking about?” 

The Doctor had a feeling these two were really hiding some, probably life-changing, information from him and he had to address it. 

“What exactly are you two hiding from me here?” he asked. “Because honestly, it would be very useful if we had all the information on the table so we don’t have to play this ridiculous trust game we’ve got going here. The future of the entire planet and quite possibly the universe is at stake here; does that mean anything to you?”

They glanced at each other, communicating something wordlessly, before Crowley said, “Well, you’re the one talking. Like, _oh_ , I’ll just show up with my time machine, which is bigger on the inside, then follow some crazy people with yet another time machine who are kidnapping a baby who could destroy the universe as a result of his absence, tell us absolutely nothing about yourself besides ‘the Doctor’ which seems very fake to me, expect us to trust you, and then ask _us_ if there’s something _we’re_ hiding. Are you kidding me?” 

“Good point,” the Time Lord said. So they _were_ hiding something. “But, seeing as we now have… er, exactly fifty-four minutes, twenty-two seconds, and nine milliseconds to save the future and/or past of the universe as we know it, I retract my earlier request and suggest we get a move on and come up with a plan.”

“Wow, so _now_ you’re on board with keeping secrets? At least tell me your real name. No one calls their kid ‘Doctor’.”

“No one calls their kid ‘Crowley’ either. Got a first name? And we really do need to get going.”

“Nah-uh-uh. Name first.”

“If it’ll make you hurry up, then… John Smith.”

“ _Real_ name, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“There are many, many complicated, technical, and very very important reasons that I can’t tell you my real name, some of which involve threatening the fate of the universe arguably more than this whole kidnapping thing, and—”

“If you two are quite finished,” Aziraphale said, looking irritated, “we _are_ on a time limit, and I think I have 12% of a plan. Crowley, call him the Doctor. Doctor, leave us alone. As you seem so adamant to point out, there’s a universe in need of saving, so— What’s that expression you’re so fond of? Allons-y?”

“Of course, Aziraphale,” the Doctor said as Crowley rolled his eyes. “What’s your plan?”

“If we can find some way to get most of the people out of the church, one of us can go in and get the baby.”

“Oh, _brilliant_!” he grinned. “Good team, Aziraphale! Now, how about you two evacuate the people while I go in to rescue the baby,” he said, retaking command. If anyone was in charge here, it would be him. “Question is, how do we get them out? Ideas?”

“Hey!” Crowley said. “Why do you get to go in and do all the saving while we have to stay outside? That’s not very fair.” He scowled. 

“Crowley, dear,” said Aziraphale, “It’s a good idea because we can just miracle them out while the doctor goes and gets Jesus.” 

The Doctor gave him a nod of thanks. He still hadn’t figured out that whole miracle thing, but the gears in his brain were turning, sometimes it just took him a while. 

Crowley heaved a dramatic sigh. “ _Fine_ ,” he said. “But in light of our environment, let’s find a _normal_ way to get them out, angel.” He shot a significant glance at the Doctor.

“Oh. Yes.” Aziraphale coughed. “No teleportation, then?” he added in a very quiet whisper, likely assuming the Doctor couldn’t hear it. Interesting. He added ‘teleportation’ and ‘good hearing’ to his mental notes.

“No,” Crowley whispered back. “We don’t know which head office would hear about it and we don’t want future Gabriel to reprimand you.”

“Okay. So, Doctor,” Aziraphale said in a normal voice, “we’ll take care of the people. Just get the baby.”

“Consider it done.” 

“Wait, Doctor,” said Aziraphale. “What about their time travelling device? The… whirlwind thing.”

“The Vortex Manipulator?” he asked. “Nah, it’s fine. I scanned it and they ended up with one originally assigned to one Captain John Hart of the Time Agency, which is old and broken enough that it could only support two trips. They’re stuck here. Does that answer your question?”

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Brilliant, okay.” The Doctor grinned. “Now. We’ve got about 45 minutes left, and, knowing me, Murphy’s Law is most definitely in place, and everything that can go wrong with this will go wrong— it’s a bit like Romeo and Juliet, really— oh, wait, that doesn’t exist yet, does it? Forget I said anything, spoilers— anyway, my point is, let’s begin!”

After explaining his end of the plan and trusting the other two on theirs, the Doctor barely waited for their nods of agreement before dashing around to the equally stunning back of the building. The back door was locked, but early 21st century Earth locks were not a problem. He was in with a buzz of his screwdriver. 

The large group of churchgoers crowding around the lead kidnapper, who was carrying the baby, was visible through the frosted glass window of the interior door. He gave Aziraphale and Crowley a few seconds to get into position before loudly buzzing the sonic as a signal and bursting into the room. 

The fire alarm sounded after a brief pause. Brilliant plan… except, how could two men from before the common era have known about modern fire alarms? The mystery deepened. But more importantly, now most of the humans were madly rushing for the doors, the lead kidnapper in their wake. The Doctor carefully snatched Jesus from him and the kidnapper yelped. 

Now for the tricky part. The stained-glass windows— they were _gorgeous_ , really, it would be a _crime_ to destroy them, but that that wasn’t going to stop him— seemed unusually small from this perspective, and a certain Time Lord was several centuries and regenerations out of practice. Still, it couldn’t be helped. He just hoped he still remembered how to do this. 

And… _liftoff_. It was old-school, but as he hovered above the ground he couldn’t really think of a reason why he had stopped using this ability to get around. 

The thing about gravity was that it was optional for Time Lords. 

He selected the largest window, and began to float unsteadily— It had been several very long centuries, okay?— toward it, still holding the baby. Then it suddenly occurred to him how ridiculously symbolic the whole ordeal must look. 

“Okay, Jesus,” he said, “we’re going to defenestrate ourselves— well, _I’m_ going to self-defenestrate, while carrying you— and I might be a bit out of practice, so it might be a bit, uh, clumsy, but I’ll try my best. Just, please don’t do anything that could mess with time any more than all this already has. Alright?”

The baby nodded solemnly. 

“Molto bene! Now, allons-y.” They drifted closer and if he shielded Jesus and hit the window back-first, everything should work out perfectly. He would just have to make contact at exactly the right angle and at a great enough speed. His coat would probably be ruined and he liked this coat, Janis Joplin gave him this coat—

 _Thunk._

“Ow.” Right. _That_ was why he had stopped practising gravitational manipulation. Why was this bloody window so _small_? Fine. Attempt two.

 _Clunk._

He hit the wall harder this time, having expected to meet glass instead of plaster and wood, and the impact jarred his hold on the baby. With a small yelp of surprise, Jesus tumbled down toward the ground. 

The Time Lord cursed loudly and dived down to catch the living fixed point he had just dropped. Luckily, they had been rather high up— that wasn’t lucky, why had he said lucky?— so he was able to catch him safely a few meters off the ground. 

“No, no no no no. Are you okay?” he muttered and by some miracle, he was fine. Wait, hadn’t the other two talked about miracles?

“Why’s there Huon energy around you?” the Doctor asked Jesus, who was suddenly glowing slightly. “I mean, more Huon energy than typical for an important historical and religious figure who has just traveled through time like you.” 

The baby didn’t know and he would’ve asked further whether it had something to do with Aziraphale and Crowley, if he hadn’t suddenly encountered the chandelier. It was a gratuitously large chandelier— with actual, though currently unlit, candles— and he somehow hadn’t noticed it until now. He cursed again and ducked to the side, barely missing being caught in its intricate arms as it swung wildly. 

Then the elaborate metal framework fell to the distant floor with a loud crash. He winced, looking down at the debris. For some reason, there were still people in the room, but luckily they were far away from the remains of the chandelier. But they seemed to be holding—

“Blimey, are those actual pitchforks? I’m impressed. Very fourteenth century,” the Time Lord said, temporarily distracted from his task. “Really boring century, don’t visit. Wait for Shakespeare and Da Vinci and the other Renaissance boys to turn up. Now _that_ was a party.”

“D-DEMON!” the chief kidnapper yelled, brandishing his weapon. “A DEMON IS STEALING OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR!”

“Uh… Time to go, d’you think?” I asked the baby messiah. This whole mess would take a _lot_ of clean-up later. 

Jesus made a distinctly _i_ _t’s about time_ expression in response. 

“Alright, third time's a charm. Here we _go_!” he exclaimed and they hurtled toward the window again. Thankfully, the Doctor had correctly calculated the trajectory this time, and, with a quick application of Setting 522-B-iii -glass- of the sonic, they soared, quite ironically, through the depiction of the Nativity in a shower of multicoloured shards. 

The Time Lord landed gracefully on the ground outside. Or rather, he _would_ have landed gracefully, if it weren’t for the fact that he: _one_ , was holding a baby he had to make sure not to injure even with the apparent miracle protection, and _two_ , was rather in a rush. All in all, it really wasn’t his best landing by a long shot. That was going to be painful in the morning. Self-defenestration was an art form. Unless you were a centuries-old Time Lord who was severely out of practice and under pressure. At least the baby was fine. ‘That was a song somewhere close to this time period wasn’t it? Under Pressure?’ the Doctor thought, distracted again until Crowley’s voice brought him back to the moment.

“You complete disaster,” Crowley said from somewhere nearby. “Why couldn’t you— you could have had us mir— remove the window or get you out, but _no_ , instead you have to go for the satan blessed window-smashing heroics. You over dramatic _bastard_.” 

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” the Doctor said as he got to his feet, wobbling slightly. “And so is Jesus. Now, we need to get back to the TARDIS and out of here. Come on.” He took a decisive step forward and stumbled. “Ow.” A sprained ankle, just what he needed. He should throw himself out of windows more often. His defenestration skills really needed work. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Doctor?” Aziraphale asked, clearly concerned. 

“Just _peachy_ ,” the Time Lord hissed, straightening up again. “I can run. Hopefully. Though you should probably carry the purported Son of God just in case.” 

“Purported?!” Aziraphale spluttered as he was handed the baby. “I’ll have you know—”

“Not my religion, sorry.”

“But—”

“Come _on_ ,” said Crowley, who was already a few meters away. 

“The TARDIS is this way,” the Doctor said as he ran, rather more slowly than usual, in the opposite direction. 

“I knew that,” Crowley said, turning around but instead of following, he frowned and put a finger against the church. “Doctor, what’s happening in there?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just that our kidnappers and their friends have apparently decided I’m a demon trying to kidnap their lord and saviour and are forming a mob in response. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them after I get you three home.” The Doctor noticed that both Crowley and Aziraphale had frozen at the word ‘demon’, which was interesting but a concern for another time. “Coming?” he called out to them, already quite a bit ahead despite the limp he was trying to hide.

“Yeah.” they responded but didn’t quite catch up despite the Time Lord going at what was really an unreasonably slow pace considering their time limit. ‘Secret discussion,’ he thought. He loved secret discussions, especially ones he wasn’t supposed to know about. 

“What the heaven did you do, angel?” Crowley hissed at what was probably meant to be an inaudible volume. “What was that noise?”

“I-I don’t know,” whispered Aziraphale. “I just miracled something that would get them out. It sounded like some sort of alarm?”

“Yeah, well, I figured that out for myself, thanks.”

The Doctor stopped in his tracks. “What? ' _Miracled_ ’ again? And you didn't actually know what you were doing? What kind of plan… miracle… miracle plan were you going for then?”

He hadn’t meant to reveal that he had been eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help it. He really wanted to know exactly who they were. 

"What the fuck?! Did you listen in on our conversation?" Crowley hissed. 

The Time Lord shrugged, spinning around to face them fully and hiding a wince. “Whoops. Sorry. Didn’t really mean to but you two are honestly a bit loud. Superior biology, apparently even compared to whoever you two are. Now, what do you mean by ‘miracle’?”

“What do _you_ mean by ‘superior biology’?” Crowley asked. “I mean, you’re very obviously not human either.”

“Ah, so you _aren’t_ human!” the Doctor said. “Not that I didn’t already know that, but it’s always nice to have hypotheses confirmed.”

“Okay, you—”

“Could you two please be quiet?” Aziraphale asked, still holding the baby and looking quite annoyed. “If you’ve forgotten, we have an angry mob on our trail, thanks to _someone_ ’s shenanigans, and a time limit during which we need to get this baby back to 7 BC. Could we maybe delay the hissy fit until a time when the universe _isn’t_ in danger? In either dimension of time, or whatever you were saying?”

Crowley looked stunned and they all stood in somewhat shocked silence for a few seconds. 

“...Oh, I _like_ you,” the Doctor said after a moment. “Crowley, as your _very_ brilliant friend has just pointed out, how about we both agree to not ask any more questions until we’re back at Christmas?”

“Christmas?”

“Uh… yes. Don’t ask.”

“Well, I guess.” Crowley shrugged. “You’re still the one who started it, though. Both times.”

“Fine. Now, let’s get out of here before our pitchfork-wielding friends show up, hmm?”

“STOP, IN THE NAME OF THE CHURCH AND THE LORD AND THE HOLY MESSIAH!” one of said pitchfork wielders exclaimed not far behind them, as if on cue.

“Oh, well, too late. Plans?” the Doctor asked.

“I’d suggest running,” Aziraphale replied. 

They didn’t need to think about that suggestion twice before taking off towards the TARDIS again. They hadn’t gotten very far before Aziraphale stopped with a disgusted noise. Apparently Jesus had, in the excitement, decided to relieve himself, without an adequate location. Aziraphale almost dropped the baby in his haste to futilely wipe at his expensive-looking robes. Luckily, Crowley caught him and kept running. Aziraphale kept huffing and started to lag behind significantly, still vainly trying to salvage his clothes. 

“Stop being whiney and _run_ , angel!” Crowley yelled over his shoulder, looking rather annoyed at now having to put up with _two_ slowpokes as well as a urine-covered baby. 

“He says he didn’t mean to and he’s sorry,” the Doctor said, translating for the ostensible Messiah.

“And that does my clothes a lot of good,” Aziraphale muttered, catching up with them again.

“You speak _baby_?” Crowley asked.

“I speak everything.”

Crowley shrugged, as best as he could while holding onto a drenched baby, and alternately running and impatiently saunter-walking while waiting for Aziraphale and the Time Lord to catch up.

They found a nice spot to catch their breath for a moment and clean up a little. After a short exchange, Crowley handed Jesus back to a disgusted-looking Aziraphale and snapped his fingers. All three of them were suddenly clean and dry.

“There you go, angel,” Crowley said with half a smile and Aziraphale gave him a loving look that simultaneously said 'Why would you do that?' and 'Thank you' at the same time.

“Everyone cleaned up? Molto bene. Let’s get moving!”

“Says the slow one,” Crowley and Jesus said at the same time

The Doctor rolled his eyes as they started to run again. “Well, I’m sorry, _you_ try jumping through a window.”

“You didn’t need to jump through the window, we had it handled.”

“Well—”

They rounded a corner, Aziraphale still holding Jesus, only to find a group of pitchfork-wielding humans blocking their path. Thankfully, the human barricade did not include the kidnapping leader.

“I’m rather surprised no aliens are involved with this,” the Doctor said to no one in particular as they skidded to a halt. “Usually with me and Christmas there’s invasions and aliens and battles and things, or at least robotic Santa's, but here it’s just humans.” He gestured towards the mob. “Strange.”

“Actually,” Aziraphale began, but Crowley shushed him. 

“Right, and you two,” he said. “But other than that, humans. That’s a bit weird.” He scanned the mob with his screwdriver again just in case. “Yup. Completely human.”

“What? Aliens are normal?” Crowley asked incredulously.

“Yeah. I was really expecting—”

“Return our Messiah to us!” yelled a member of the mob, who looked rather annoyed at having to listen to their conversation. 

“Wow, you really are fanatics, aren’t you?” the Time Lord asked rhetorically. He turned to his companions. “Don’t worry, you two, not all of the future is like this. Although, the 20th century might be a bit of a mixed bag—”

“Return him!” the same mob person bellowed, brandishing their pitchfork.

The Doctor sighed. “Okay, now, this almost never works, but let’s try anyway… There are at least three very important, complicated, and brilliant reasons you should let us keep the baby and return him to his time. Firstly, his absence could collapse the entire caus—” He didn’t get to reasons two, three, and three B, due to an untimely pitchfork interrupting his train of thought and sending him tumbling backwards and falling. Aziraphale yelped as the metal projectile clattered to the ground. 

“Ow. Okay, that’s just rude,” the Doctor said from his new position on the ground. Some of the mob ran off, at this point, presumably to tell their leader where the rest of the group had cornered the interlopers.

“Why is it that when I try to give them reasons they always resort to violence? Is it the numbering?” the Doctor complained, slowly trying to push himself up from the ground.

Aziraphale crouched down to him. “Oh, dear. That looks rather painful. Now if I just—” he stretched his hand towards the Doctor’s now rather broken-looking ankle but Crowley caught his hand.

“ _No,_ angel,” he said. “Unless you really want to get in trouble with Gabriel _in the future_. You’ve already expended about a truckload of miracle energy getting people out of the church—”

“Yep,” the Doctor confirmed, “I can feel the Huon energy.”

“And healing’s _very_ energy-intensive. No more mirac— uh, doing stuff.”

“But we need to hurry!”

“No, it’s fine, I can run,” the Doctor said, wincing. “Ow.”

“You obviously can’t,” Crowley hissed. “You complete and utter disaster. That stupid stunt with the window, now everything’s gone pear-shaped.”

“I like pears,” Aziraphale murmured.

“I hate them,” Crowley and the Doctor said at the same time.

"Oi! You three! shut it! Our leader will be here to take care of you soon enough. So don't even think about any funny business," one of the few remaining mob members standing guard around them proclaimed, jabbing his pitchfork in their direction.

The trio of non-humans gave the aggressor a collective glare, eloquently shutting him up for a split second. Long enough for Crowley to snap, freezing the remaining mob members in place.

“Well… that works.”

“Not for long, it doesn’t.” Crowley hissed before returning to the matter at hand. “Anyway, since this _idiot_ here can’t run because he decided to act like a dork and defenestrate himself, we need a new plan before our main kidnappers get back.”

“Could you do the flying thing again?” Aziraphale asked.

“Sadly, no. Gravitational manipulation requires concentration outside the Zero Room, and while I think I have a pretty high pain tolerance, that was a _heavy_ pitchfork. I think my ankle is broken.”

“ _We_ could always—”

“Sometimes I think you _want_ to get caught, angel,” Crowley sighed. “ _N_ _o_ , we _can’t_ , and I really hope you can see why. Times like this, I wish I had alcohol.”

“Can’t say I’m a huge fan, but have you ever tried mixing a banana and coconut milk into rum?” the Doctor asked.

“Yeah. Those are good.”

“...You invented the banana daiquiri. In 7 BCE.”

“More like 200, but sure.”

“Darn, and I thought _I_ was early. Maybe it didn’t spread to France for a while.”

“Indonesia’s pretty. Though I had to miracle the seeds out of the alcohol. Never trying that again.”

“Bananas do get better. Give it a few centuries or so.”

He’d been joking about the centuries thing, but Crowley replied in all seriousness, “Sure, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Aziraphale had been looking back and forth between the two of them. “You two are really very similar, you realise?”

“Oh, really?” Crowley asked, with perhaps just a _twinge_ of sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed. Why _do_ you look like me? And talk like me? Besides the hair.”

“Well, I certainly wish I was ginger, it looks great.”

“I know.”

“Maybe next time. I can hope, can’t I—”

“ _Since you two are so similar_ ,” Aziraphale continued pointedly, “couldn’t we use that?”

“What?” they said at the same time. The Doctor raised his hand for a high-five. Crowley looked confused. 

“The kidnappers are after you for taking the baby and breaking the window, and you can’t run. But, Crowley looks exactly like you…”

“Oh!” the Doctor beamed at him. “Oh, that is _brilliant_.”

“What?” asked Crowley. “Wait… _Oh_!” Crowley snapped and suddenly he and the Doctor had switched outfits.

“ _Yes_!”

“ _Yes_!”

“If you two are done,” Aziraphale said, holding out Jesus, “we haven’t much time before they can move again, we should go. We’ll meet you at the TARDIS, Crowley.”

Crowley nodded in agreement, taking the child carefully. 

“Brilliant. Allons-y!”

Aziraphale and the Doctor hobbled slowly along, trying their best to look like normal humans out for a walk instead of two non-humans trying to get back to a time-and-spaceship so they could save the alleged Saviour of the world. Meanwhile behind them, they could hear as the humans regained full autonomy and began yelling and chasing after Crowley and baby Jesus.

When Aziraphale and the Doctor reached the TARDIS, the Doctor unlocked her door to let them inside. They had just stepped inside when Aziraphale turned at the sound of distant shouts.

“Crowley’s in trouble,” he said. “I… Will you—”

“I’m fine. Go!”

Aziraphale took off like a shot, his robes whipping around him, and the Doctor closed the door.

The gentle worried hum of his beautiful TARDIS filled the silence of the empty console room as he attempted to strip off his coat, he stumbled upon remembering he was still in Crowley’s robes. “Right, that’s a thing.” Moving on from the minor alteration to his usual routine, the Doctor sought out the med bay. From what he could sense, the TARDIS had moved the scarcely-used med bay behind the console room’s back door, and the Doctor patted her Time Rotor in thanks as he stumbled past.

The med bay was sterile, white, and lifeless. He hadn’t used it since the Time War. Usually he’d just go to a future hospital or seal himself in the Zero Room; this place had too many bad memories. No choice now, of course. They were on a time limit— twelve minutes, thirty-eight point two seven seconds left— and who knew where, or when, they would end up if he left and tried to get back. Hitting the right time in the right spot when you had free access over all of space and time was like skydiving from a spacecraft exiting low Earth orbit, hitting a specific glass ceiling in London and landing on the right part of the floor. Well, significantly less painful, but still. The point was, his only option was the med bay.

It hadn’t changed in the 900 or so years since he had drunk from the Sisterhood of Karn’s goblet. If he closed his eyes he could still picture the stains blemishing the polished walls. That was enough reminiscing. 

He headed for one of the ridiculously advanced machines in the corner, all smooth nano-plastic and rounded corners; quickly solved his ankle problem, then exited the room and its lingering ghosts as quickly as he could. No sense dwelling on the past, a piece of advice he himself seldom kept.

“Thanks, old girl!” the Doctor said cheerfully as he re-entered the console room. She beeped in relief. “Sorry to have worried you, you know how it is.”

A low, playfully biting chime from the console. _Yes. I’m sadly very aware of what an idiot you are. An idiot in a box._

“Yep, that’s me! Now—”

With a loud _bang_ , the doors swung open and Aziraphale rushed inside holding Jesus.

“Wha— WHAT?” the Doctor yelped, leaping away from the console. “How did you do that? Those doors are impenetrable! I— the assembled hordes of Genghis Khan— WHAT?” 

Said doors swung shut with a smug-sounding squeak. 

Aziraphale stared at his raised hand. “I-I just m— I snapped, and they opened.”

“But that’s impossible! No one—”

“Doctor!”

“Yes?”

“Crowley’s in trouble!”

“Yes, I know, that’s why you rushed off. And now you’re back… with the messiah and without the ginger... Oh, dear. What happened?”

“I got there and they were almost on him,” Aziraphale said as he handed the baby to the Time Lord and began agitatedly pacing by the entrance. “So he gave me Jesus and told me to run, and I think he must have used a miracle, because I did, and—”

“Googahwada,” said Jesus.

The Doctor frowned, parsing the information. “Jesus here says that the kidnappers formulated a plan to close in on Crowley and that they had collected buckets of blessed water due to their assumption that I’m a demon.”

“Nehowhbabada,” he said. 

“Alright, fine. That assumption was probably helped by the fact that I levitated out of a window while holding their one true saviour.”

“He said all that?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, taken literally, it was more like ‘trap bucket water fly’. Translating baby talk directly into— which language are we speaking? Any adult language, really. It requires a lot of inference and jumping to conclusions. Basically, it doesn’t work.”

“Holy water,” said Aziraphale, looking horrified. “Holy water— Doctor!”

“What? What is it about holy water?”

“We need to get to Crowley, now!”

“Is he allergic to Huon particles? He can’t be, he’s—”

“DOCTOR!”

“ _Alright_ , alright!” After returning a rather annoyed and motion-sick Jesus to Aziraphale, the Doctor zipped over to the console, leaning over the controls. “Lock the temporal coordinates, reset the helmic regulator, set the scanner to detect a strong source of energy… Blimey, he got far… Now.” He pulled down the lever with a decisive _thunk_ and they were off. 

“Come on, dear,” he said, laying his hand on the Time Rotor as they bumped and _vwoorp_ ed along. “Horizontal space travel’s tricky but you can do it…” 

“Not again,” Aziraphale said at a particularly violent jerk, holding Jesus at arm’s length as the baby vomited. “I just got these clothes yesterday! Or… technically two thousand years ago? Still, you get the point!” he protested to the child.

The wheezing of the engines grew louder as a tall figure began materializing in the centre of the room.

“ _Please_ say I made the calculations correctly,” the Doctor muttered as the form faded out. “Please please please please please…”

“...No, I’m telling you,” Crowley’s voice became audible as he appeared again, “don’t— I—”

 _Thud._

“What.” Crowley stared down at himself where he stood next to a strut of coral. “Excuse me, what.”

“Brilliant!” the Doctor exclaimed beaming. “Now, the angry pitchfork-wielding mob is my problem to clean up, and don’t worry, it’s easy. I just have to alert the police by an anonymous phone call and if you’re alright I’ll be getting you three back to where you came from! You know, this was _much_ easier than my usual fare. Someone’s slacking off.”

“One,” said Crowley, “what do you usually do that you think _this_ is easy? And two, what exactly just happened?”

“Well,” the Doctor answered, hopping around the console to set the spatial-temporal coordinates for 7 BCE Bethlehem, “my Christmases usually involve aliens invading, people dying or nearly dying, chases across London, with or without taxis and ridiculously tiny cars, idiotic fanatic organisations digging to the centre of the Earth to find spider babies, defeating warrior races by ruthlessly throwing orange fruit, growing a hand back, or all of the above and more. Usually that last one. So, _yeah_ , this is rather tame by comparison.” He stopped to point at them. “Beware of those early 21st century Christmases. And to the second, I just very carefully and brilliantly, if I do say so myself, materialized the TARDIS around you— a remarkably tricky task in enclosed spaces, by the way— probably just as you were about to have holy water poured on you. Which is _apparently_ bad.”

Crowley froze. He swung around to glare accusingly at Aziraphale. “Did you tell him?”

“Tell him what, dear?”

“About the… the thing with holy water? And the other thing?”

“Of course not!” said Aziraphale, affronted. “What do you think of me? Why would I ever tell anyone that you’re a d—”

“Angel, _no_!”

“While I’d normally love to ask a couple million of follow-up questions to that very interesting exchange,” the Doctor interrupted, “we have about five minutes left to get this baby back. Four minutes, fifty-six point two three seconds.” The TARDIS began dematerializing with a _thunk_ as he pulled down the flight lever. 

“What I don’t get is why they didn’t notice you weren’t the Doctor,” Aziraphale said. “I know it was my plan, but I expected you to— I thought they might notice the hair. And you didn’t, uh—”

“Of course I didn’t,” said Crowley, rolling serpentine eyes. “I’m not stupid.”

The Doctor cleared his throat. “Like I said, a lifetime ago to… to an old friend, there’s a scientific explanation for that. People are thick.”

Crowley laughed in surprise, a genuinely joyful sound. It occurred to the Doctor that he hadn’t yet seen him truly smile until now, as he and Aziraphale dissolved into laughter over the entire debacle that had just unfolded. 

The TARDIS landed with a triumphant _thunk_ and he trotted to the door. 

“Yup! Random stable, Bethlehem, 7 BCE. And…” he paused. The sound of distant _vwoorp_ ing filled the air. “Just a few seconds after we left. Perfect landing! Thanks, dear!” The console beeped proudly in response. “Come on, you two, we’re not done yet!”

“Goohgahdabah,” said Jesus as Aziraphale carried him out of the TARDIS.

“Oi! She’s not ‘just a box’, she’s my TARDIS, and she’s magnificent!”

“Yeah, I still don’t believe you speak baby,” Crowley said, exiting after them. 

“Oh, really? Shall I demonstrate? Jesus, what did Crowley and Aziraphale bring you?”

“Gooohbah,” said Jesus.

“A plant?”

“It’s ambrosia!” Aziraphale corrected the baby primly. 

“Yeah, yeah, you could easily have been spying on us!” Crowley chimed in.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that—”

“Come on!” Aziraphale called from halfway over a hill.

Mary was very surprised at them having got back so soon, but gratefully received her son with open arms. The Doctor paused as the mauled and twisted timestreams neatly slotted back together, with scarcely a blemish remaining to mark the interference with the Fixed Point. 

Now that history had been saved, the three of them retreated to a nearby hilltop to observe the rest of the first Christmas. 

After Crowley had been coaxed into switching their outfits back, the trio of human-shaped beings sat down together and looked upon the stable where history was being made.

“You know,” the Doctor said as they kept an eye on the stable, “I’ve met beings claiming to be angels and demons before.” 

Aziraphale and Crowley froze. 

“Angels?” Aziraphale said weakly. “What… what’s an angel?”

Crowley put his hand on his face. 

“It’s a bit obvious with you two, no offence. Both dripping in Huon energy, and the references… I suppose even a few thousand years isn’t enough to integrate yourself completely with a culture that’s so different. You’re immortal, right? You’re gonna have a _lot_ of fun.”

“We’re still learning, I suppose,” Aziraphale said. “I mean, it’s not every day one gets to meet an alien. I never did ask. Where are you from?”

The Doctor stared at him. 

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Crowley said. “It was obvious, what with you prattling on about time and space and whatnot.”

“Well,” the Doctor started. “There you have it. I’m from a… it’s— it was this planet…”

“Specific,” Crowley remarked sarcastically. Aziraphale shushed him. 

“Somewhere over there.” He gestured vaguely toward Kasterborous. “Gallifrey. It was a beautiful place. I guess you wouldn’t have heard of it, what with the… Yeah.”

“Oh. I understand.” Aziraphale’s voice was quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

They sat and watched the stars in silence for a while.

“Those stars,” said Crowley, “you’ve been to all of them?”

“Yeah, just about. Alpha Centauri— that one, over there— is a lovely place. Great during summer. Reasonably close; you two could probably get there with what I’ve seen of your powers.”

Crowley hummed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But the real question is, you’re an angel and a demon, right? Which is which?”

Crowley stared. Then laughed. 

“You couldn’t tell?” he asked, gesturing to their robes and his eyes. “Even with the whole hullabaloo over the holy water? ‘M a snake, he’s an angel. Simple.”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t want to assume. Mustn’t pre-judge.” He scanned them with his screwdriver. Crowley sighed. 

“No, I really can’t tell from these readings. You both have the same ridiculously high Huon particle concentrations. So did Jesus, so I’m assuming that’s your ‘holy energy’.”

“Is there really no difference?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Nooope. Nada. None.”

“That’s… interesting,” Crowley said, staring at his hands. “No corruption or anything? Burning sulfur? Hellfire?”

“Nah.”

“Okay, that’s a bit weird.”

“Is it?” the Doctor asked. “I dunno what powers or backstories or whatnot you have. There are thousands of different versions of demons and angels in the universe, and they’re very different. I think Skaalkorus V worships a version of Satan instead of God, so they’ve got all that flipped. Chaos over order and all that. There are lots of those, now that I think about it. I guess it’s not really concrete which is ‘good’ and which is ‘bad’. Like you two.”

With that said, the Doctor got up and dusted off his coat, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets, happy to have them back. “Well, it was lovely meeting you two, but I’ve got an appointment with the High Priestess of Palmonoe. Feisty woman, that one, can’t be late.” It was a lie, but they didn’t notice. 

“Don’t you have a time machine?” Crowley drawled with a grin. 

“Well, yes, but in this case, that doesn’t really matter. It’s a bit like the Jesus time limit thing. Except with four dimensions of space, if you can picture that. No one can picture that. Just, I really really need to go. Timey-wimey... see you around sometime.” With those words, the Doctor walked off back towards his TARDIS, leaving a confused angel and demon behind.

Back in the familiar space of the console room, he sighed. He hated endings. Might as well break that off as soon as he could. 

“We’ve been doing Christmas for a while, dear,” he said as they took off with a loud wheezing noise. “Wanna try for Easter? Despite it never being a Saturday and Saturdays being fun… That might change, who knows. So, Easter?”

She chirped happily, and the Doctor grinned.

“Allons-y!”

**Author's Note:**

> Time Lords can fly when the plot, Rule of Cool, or Rule of Funny demands it, as stated in the Gallifreyan Physiology article of TARDIS wiki, though the last time this was mentioned was in Four’s era, so Ten’s probably a bit out of practice.  
> ROMANA: Oh, I'd be delighted. Shall we take the lift or fly [up the Eiffel Tower]?  
> (FOURTH) DOCTOR: Let's not be ostentatious.  
> ROMANA: All right. Let's fly then.  
> DOCTOR: That would look silly. We'll take the lift. Come on.  
> (Season 17 Episode 2, “City of Death”)
> 
> Join us at the [Ineffable Writers Guild Discord server](https://discordapp.com/invite/8Z9dQPe)! 
> 
> See behind the scenes on its [Project Doc](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1KQouM-_H3GVRbq7SL0UyWGYE3scNZymv_gl_s_1OlZM/)!!


End file.
